Lamenting a Lost Love


Calls for walk on pebbles, repenting,
Lonely love, his world representing,
Air wild, and shakes the trees there;
Sends to knees; now in despair.

© January 2019 Colonialist
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Posted in Africa, Challenge, Wordle | Tagged , | 1 Comment

The Proof of the Petting is in the (Rep)Eating


See previous post — yesterday morning and latest cat was still too afraid of human hands to let them come anywhere near her. Now she is becoming convinced that they are the best thing since plates of food. The more the merrier, after due hesitation. Even I got to stroke her this evening!

Rob has been calling her Blatt, MBH (for no known reason) fancies Georgie Girl. My own recent preference is Blackit. All these are better than the original descriptive titles of The Monster Under the Bed, and then The Monster Under the House.

We paid another visit to Royal Natal Yacht Club for supper last night. A pleasant sunset, and the grandkids swam non-stop in the pool. Pity the harbour water is now too polluted to swim there as their mother and aunt used to do.

© January 2019 Colonialist

 

 

 

Posted in Africa, Cats, Excursions, Personal Journal, pets, Swimming | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

Caturday funnies — Poe’s birthday edition


My comment:

Love it!
For the benefit of those who don’t quite register, Edgar Alan Poe wrote: “Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting – `Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

bluebird of bitterness

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Posted in Africa | 1 Comment

Black Cat and a Stroke of Good Luck


Our latest feral cat has taken over a month to overcome enough nervousness to keep from diving under the house at our least movement, to emerge and sit near us when we are on the porch, and to come inside on occasion to feed on the kitchen counter. She looks so huggable that it takes great self-control not to spook her out with constant approaches. The girls have had it impressed upon them that the cat must make most of the moves.

Midday today I was making friendly overtures with some slivers of meat dangling enticingly from my fingers, but the pounces only happened as soon as I dropped them.

This evening, though, came an excited call from granddaughter Rhiannon on the intercom — finally, daughter Robyn managed to stroke the cat who apparently immediately discovered she loved this sort of attention and squirmed herself inside out, purring.  The first time, to our fairly certain knowledge, that she had ever been petted.  I do so wish I had seen it.

Probably any non-cat person would be bewildered at how thrilled we all are.

© January 2019 Colonialist
Posted in Cats, Grandchildren, Personal Journal | Tagged , | 26 Comments

Signon Proof of Existence


Bluebird of Bitterness featured a cartoon with a batch on Geeks, as reblogged by Chris the Story Reading Ape.

This one struck my imagination as lending itself to another rendering:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is my alternative version. I’m sure the original artist won’t mind:

Posted in Cartoon inventions, Humour | Tagged , , | 16 Comments

Neighbourhood Attractions and Detractions


 

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We took a birthday-celebrating friend and husband to help us put on yet another show for the peacocks, fish and buck at Chantecler on Sunday, and I had my first swim for ages. My recent ongoing tendency to do myself bodily harm had put paid to my habit of a daily dip and exercise for some time.

The outing was greatly enjoyed, with good food and drink, and it was fun strolling amongst the three varieties of antelope afterwards.

In the evening we were treated to a sound as of fireworks, but it turned out to be an automatic weapon being discharged at the beach down the road from us. The story is a bit obscure, but apparently a car key broke off in the lock and an attempt to borrow pliers to open it escalated into an argument culminating in what appears to have been a military-type going to collect his weapon and returning with it to spray bullets around, injuring three women quite badly.

The next day we learnt that one of the neighbourhood shopping malls most frequently frequented by us was closed while the authorities tried to flush robbers out of the ceiling, and while damage was assessed caused by said robbers having set off the fire sprinkler system and collapsing part of said ceiling.

I suppose it all alleviates the boredom?

Another trip to the doctor for J today, and I assisted with collecting swabs etc when she had a further blood sample taken. Our friend/cousin-many-times-removed the doctor said jocularly that he should pay me as a nursing assistant, and at the end of the session J demanded that I receive the promised salary.

I forgot to mention that my dear wife had bullied me into having an examination on the previous visit with J for persistent lower back pain, and it turned out that I had strained ligaments and needed a three-day course of Diclofenac. And I have just received a quote for the renewal of my removable chomping equipment to replace a broken top plate, and to fill in some more that have since been donated to the Tooth Fairy.

What fun. Gaining in age, one gains in experience — of medical practitioners. Let us hope that all these repairs and renovations will set me up for the rest of the year.

© January 2019 Colonialist
Posted in Africa, Excursions, Grandchildren, Personal Journal | Tagged , , , | 26 Comments

A Day Filled with Interesting Times.


Proudly displayed at a braai on Saturday evening — one of the par of earrings Jeneva’s piercing in the morning now allowed her to wear. She has been working towards that reward for weeks!

From the moment my special cat M fled screaming under our wardrobe at five a.m. pursued by Katie, one of the bully-cats from the Main House, I might have known that this would not be a day of peacefulness and rest. After I had shooed Katie into the middle distance and pacified M, sleep eluded me. Finally, I got up and prepared for my six-monthly visit to the ophthalmologist to control glaucoma and dry eyes. Much Better Half accompanied me.

Then we learnt that young Jeneva had suffered another ‘episode’ at school, and messages flowed as to whether to collect her or not. Finally, we learnt that she had gone back to class, so continued across to the other side of Death Valley to visit the opthal-wotsit lady.
The usual session of musical chairs revealed that the condition is under control. Sight in one eye has deteriorated ever so slightly; nevertheless, my spectacles of the last several years will still serve.

We then repaired to Sister-in-Law’s place to wait out the time before going to the kids’ squad swimming. There, we got a message that a second episode had occurred, so we dashed to the school and had the gates opened for us to drive in and collect J from the front door.

Thence to our family doctor, who gave her a full examination and diagnosed that these new fits had probably been brought on/exacerbated by an attack of gastro. Home, and I just had time to relocate my sole surviving chiming clock (with a spring that has not sproinged) on a shelf in direct view from the computer, before Rhiannon got back and I took her to Club Swimming from 4 to 5.

J suffered yet another episode when her mother got back, so we will have to see what the doctor says now . . .

Almost as soon as R and I returned from swimming, her mother and I had to go to an orientation meeting at the school, for us to meet and have the law laid down for us by R’s Grade Five Form Mistress. I took the opportunity to express strong disapproval of an  Education Department policy she announced that no holidays may be taken during term times. ‘Who is the Department,’ I demanded indignantly, ‘to deny parents the right to give the enormously valuable learning experience of an overseas trip, for example, at the only time an employer is able or willing to grant the leave?’  Not within her control, of course. The Ed. Dept. is far too stupid and dictatorial to be tolerated.

Then I had to help R by checking her maths homework and try and stay patient while I explained that writing numbers in descending/ascending order as asked for did not equate with numbering them 1,2,3 etc in such sequences, as she had done.

© January 2019 Colonialist
Posted in Africa, Grandchildren, Personal Journal, Swimming, Swimming Squad Training | Tagged , , | 11 Comments